Trust
by Patricia Loupee
Summary: Who's gonna be with you, while the world doesn't have to be saved? Jill's P.O.V., oneshot.


**Disclaimer:** The current text it's a fanfiction based on the video-game series Resident Evil/Biohazard, made only for entertainment, with no personal gains. The series, as all his characters are property of Capcom.

**o.O.o**

_"Don't walk in front of me – I may not want to follow;_

_Don't walk behind me – I may not want to lead;_

_Walk with me side by side, so we can be the same."_

_**Native American Saying**_

Actually, my memory it's not going good. Last time I remember to saw him, out of a extreme situation, I doesn't even remember where were we, neither what was the occasion. I remember I had a campari glass in my hand, and I was a bit drunk while saying to someone else, that he was lucky of having me there to save his ass.

That words I remember perfectly, the clear laughing of him and even the tone of joke on his voice, but I don't remember who's the one of realese this:

"What are you doing idle that you didn't asked this girl to marry you yet?"

And I remember I laugh, amused by the sittuation, but nothing but it.

Of course it amuses me! A viewer from outside may not understand that, after we face the hell together, and moreover, going back to face it willingly, insinuate it is almost ridiculous.

Just a few people in the whole world will someday know what means saving a life. I have quit trying to save the world a long, long time ago, human lives are the thing that real cares. Specially those that already saved my ass too.

Risk your neck for another one it's not a sacrifice, brings no rewarding, you make it 'cause it's the right thing to do – and no more questions, if you know your own limits. We saved each others live for... Necessity. Just the consequence of saving the life of I would never do for him something that he wouldn't be able to turn me back.

But, what remains after? I'll say what: a medal from the government, a note at the newspaper, and the gaze of strangers. There's no gratitude on anonymity and it helps to keep your feet on the ground; but passed the storm, who's going to be there with you, while the world "doesn't have to be saved"?

I wasn't really in the mood for it, but was the least I could do – I still feel myself most in debt than quite, and when I heard about the car on the bridge. I got scared for real. Something too wrong must happened while I was "out".

The building was old, with no elevator; I think he choosed this place 'cause it looks like the old parts of Raccoon – damn, it was a good place! Should not blame me for having good memories from there. I should be happy just for remember...

There were three flights of stairs 'till the door.

-Chris? - I called, knocking heavily against the metal. - Chris?

Nothing. Ok, little Jill, you always knew what to do at these hours. It's good to feel active and practice some breaking-in...

The hinges creaked, like an old lady with arthritis. I did not wanted to worrie, but it was it was quite hard.

-Chris, where the hell are you? - passed my eyes through the room, looking for a phone, just in case, if I have to call 911.

-Here! - I sighed in relief when his voice camed from the balcony outside.

The place was more messy than the room inside, but I not really care. Sitting on a beach chair, barefeet, cargo pants and a t-shirt, there was the little bastard, drinking a beer.

He showed surprised by seeing me, and I confess it made me happy.

-Don't you hear me knock?

-Guess I got away for a bit... - he turned his eyes from mine, hushed for a second. - You can?

A bottle of beer, coming out fresh from a bowl of water to his hand. It looked inviting.

-I made a dozen exams, but I'm not under meds, Chris! - from the little things that I missed, the last one I expected was the sound of oppenning a beer. A delicious sense of normality invaded me.

-And how are you feeling, Jill?

I sat on the balcony rail and he bent on my direction, staring at me with – any girl would call it like – "stray pup eyes". It was more than it really means, but I can't express it other way.

-Brand new, I guess. - took a sip from the beer. - The outside at least.

I laughed, but he stayed serious.

-What about the inside? - he seemed embaressed of asking, but genuinely worried.

-Well... I'm not weeping, but there's not much I can do right now. I met your friend, dr. Clayton, in the clinic...

Jeffrey Clayton is the BSAA's analyst, and Chris hates him. Not that the has made something else than be an analyst.

-Please, even you? - I would found it hard to believe it too, but that kind of voice wasn't really necessary. - Have Claire sent you here?

That really bothered me. Let's say that affirmations about I'm not doing things on my own have bothered me a lot these last days...

-I'm not here to convince you of nothing, Christopher. I was just trying to say that I am about to start therapy with him! Not now, of course, I... - ...need one more gulp. - ...I'm just like you, I think. When I feel ready to talk, I'm gonna talk.

He looked at me, and then left his eyes get lost on the horizon, during a long time, long enough for calling abnormal. The dark sky showed me that I was with him for more time than I though.

I preferred to leave him quiet, preserving his personal space – those were demons that I could not help him to fight. Claire had warned me about his crisis on the training pavilion, but I did not believed that it was that serious.

My mistake. He raised his hands to his face, on a violent spasm, and screamed, that way, "from the throat", like someone having a nightmare.

Shaking him, I kept calling his name untill it ends, and after some time, he was looking on my direction – not at me -, scared, heavily breathing.

Damn, I had already gone through it... But for me it wasn't that harder, after all, it used to catch me only when I fell asleep.

-Chris, how long is it happening?

Although calmer, he still took a bit for answering – Since we got back...

-How often? - I sat on the floor, in front of him, holding his hands on mine. They trembled.

-More than it should... - turned his head, a hand wiping out the sweat. - Jill you... Do you mind if I ask you to leave?

-Chris...! I'm not gonna leave you alone!

It was an irreducible affirmation, which he, on the beginning, seemed to not react. He didn't talked or moved a muscle, but his eyes told me he had allowed me to stay.

If he was embaressed and wanted to be alone, for blaming himself for that weakness, it was exactly what I couldn't let happen. I hope he still remember that I'll never judge him for a thing like this – it was only another downhole. I may not help him to get out, but I can hold the torch aloft.

"Saving the world" sounds noble and glorious, but as I said before, it's an ungrateful job. Sometimes, all a human being needs it's somenthing more touchable to protect, something closer to fight for, in order to feel, real time, that they're making something really important, not just shots in the water.

Maybe for this reason I layed my head on his lap, bringing one of his hands to my chest. And yes, the scars still hurt.

I don't remember when I fell asleep, but fell on a deep sleep, despite the unconfortable stance.

He wasn't there, the morning after. I woke up on his bed, with the sunshine on my face, trying to remember my dream last night, but I couldn't. Never again I remembered my dreams, only my nightmares.

The only sign of life from Chris, that morning, was a scrawled note, next to a muffin and a can of cold tea:

_"Thanks, partner._

_Chris"_

For me, it was more than enough to know that my duty was fulfilled with him.

**o.O.o**

_**Fanfiction translated in: **__02/26/2011_

_This is my first Resident Evil fanfiction, and I think I started with the hardest thing: a P.O.V._

_They're usually my last option – hard to manage, easy to lost in character's thoughs and forget the facts – but I just NEEDED to write it as a P.O.V., in order to "feel Jill" closer._

_It is a translation from portuguese, I must say, and despite how good I speak english[NOT], you may find a few grammar mistakes, but I hope you have understand it._

_See ya, and thanks for reading._

_**Patricia Loupee**_


End file.
